Warrick asked me if revenge was the impetus which drew me to knock upon his door for the means by which to reach the disembodied spirit of Taltos. I told him no, what I seek is survival and the only weapon I will have in my paltry arsenal against Asmodeus would be the one he so graciously provides me. I cannot hurt the Briar King nor defend myself against him in anyway for the curse's enchantment ties my hands point-blank in this regard.

Revenge would indicate I can walk away from my misery at any time, ignoring offence but a vindictiveness within me, a overblown pride will not allow me to swallow it down. Yes, the Briar King has wronged me grievously and will do so again, but I can neither escape him and in the end.. his wrongs will add up and equate to my death. I am not vengeful, I am desperate.

Indeed, after the very brief contact with Taltos, the long arm of the Briar King spoiled everything in short order. The Necromancer had painstakingly packed up the witch board and planchette, spurring me to beg to remain the night so we might try again come the morn. I couldn't go away not knowing if I had an ally in Taltos or not.

Yet, as Warrick showed me to a feminine sleeping chamber in which I might pass the night, my nose began to bleed. It was a small, bothersome trickle at first, but the flow increased exponentially over time until I was forced to leave in the dead of night.

Asmodeus was calling me home, tugging on my leash. I had been out of his reach long enough.

[0 petals fell]